


The Third Sunday

by MewchuRuiji



Category: A Heist With Markiplier, markiplier - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 02:11:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21291929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MewchuRuiji/pseuds/MewchuRuiji
Summary: Yancy's never had a visitor in all his time at Happy Trails Penitentiary, but perhaps that's due to change.....
Comments: 3
Kudos: 89





	The Third Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> hhh this is very short but i hope yous likes it uwu

Visitation day. A happy day for oh-so-many of the prisoners at Happy Trails Penitentiary, a time where once a month, they could have a connection to the outside world. Yancy had a bit a disdain for the third Sunday of the month, though.

“What’s the big deal about stuffs from the outside, huh?”

Every month he sat in his cell, watching the other inmates pass him on their way to the visitor’s room, and though he would have never admitted it, he had a bit of longing for someone to come see him. He feared that once the others got their parole, he would too, and the safety of his “penitentiary family” would be no more.

Once again, visitation day had arrived. The patter of voices that streamed from the guards and inmates washed over the prison. Yancy turned over in his bed. 

“Ughhhh….”

A group of guards came in to escort the prisoners from their cozy cells to the visitor’s room. They were brought in and out three at a time in the morning hours of the day, which was a painfully slow process for Yancy to endure. He stayed in bed, facing the cold, gray wall of his cell, internally grumbling.

Finally, he turned to face his side table and clock. 11:00, the last batch of visits were due now. Turning back around, he sighed. Yancy had a small sprinkle of longing for a special someone. But it was too late for that. Unless? 

Yancy heard the drawn-out, scraping creak of a door opening, and a voice.

“You got yourself a visitor, Yancy. Up and at em,” The guard said.

Yancy shuffled around and looked in the way of the guard.

“Ey, are you playin a joke on me?” Yancy asked.

“Nope. Just follow me.”

Yancy shuffled behind the guard with anticipation, could someone actually be here to visit him? Was it his time for parole and they didn’t want to alert the other prisoners? He thought through these scenarios as he was led through the halls of Happy Trails. He kept his head down for the majority of the walk, looking at his hands until the sight of someone appeared in his peripheral vision. A familiar face, those comforting yet passionate eyes, glittering, even through the clouded and aged fiberglass of the visitation room. Yancy sat down, mouth agape and face brighter than a shard of glass against fresh asphalt.  
They waved with a smile at the charming convict.

“Yous… actually came back?”


End file.
